Page 10 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate
“You were just promoted yesterday,” I point out, hating every word even as I say them. “This merger represents billions in combined assets and affects thousands of pack members across both territories. Perhaps someone with longer tenure would be more appropriate—”
“Are you questioning Alpha Darius’s judgment?” Her eyes are blazing now, and despite everything, despite the disaster this is, part of me responds to that fire. “Because he chose me specifically for this role. He trusts me to handle it. Do you have an actual concern about my qualifications, or is this just age discrimination?”
“I’m questioning whether someone with two minutes of experience as chief strategic advisor is the right choice for—”
“You don’t even know me.” She leans toward me slightly, and the movement brings her scent more strongly. My wolf nearlybreaks free. “You’ve never seen my work. You have no basis for doubting my abilities except, apparently, my age and the fact that I was recently promoted.”
She’s right. She’s absolutely right. And I have no defense that doesn’t involve explaining things I can’t explain.
“I think someone else should be assigned to lead the assessment team,” I say flatly. “Someone with more experience in merger operations.”
Before either of them can respond, I get up and head for the door.
Disbelief colors Darius’s voice when he says, “Lucas, we—”
“I have calls to make,” I interrupt him. “We can discuss staffing later, after we’ve both had time to consider the options.”
I’m out the door before he can stop me, striding down the hallway toward the elevators. My heart is pounding, my wolf snarling with fury at me for walking away from our mate again, for hurting her, for being a coward.
It’s all true. I know it is.
I press the elevator call button and wait, forcing myself to breathe normally. Count to ten. Get control.
I hear footsteps approaching and recognize the sound instantly.
Fuck.
“Running away again?” Her voice is sharp enough to slice even the toughest hide.
I don’t turn around. “I’m not running away,” I say to the elevator doors. “I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”
“Not when you’re doing it to avoid a conversation.”
The elevator dings, and the doors open. I step inside and turn to face her, keeping my expression neutral even though everything in me is screaming to reach for her.
She remains standing in the hallway, hands clenched at her sides, eyes intense with anger and something else. Something that looks like betrayal.
“Why do you keep doing this?” she demands, and I can hear the frustration bleeding through the professional façade now. The pain I caused. “Last night you shoved me away like I disgusted you, and just now, you tried to have me removed from my first project. What the hell is your problem?”
She is fuming. She is also justified.
“You know we’re fated mates,” she continues, her voice dropping lower but somehow cutting deeper. “Don’t even try to deny it. I felt it. You felt it. So, why are you ignoring me? Why are you treating me like I’m—”
“Be professional,” I interrupt her, making my voice sound cold. Hard. “This is a workplace. Act like it.”
Her mouth snaps shut. The hurt that flashes across her face makes my heart sting.
“Stay away from me,” I add. Because I need her to. Because if she keeps being in my presence, keeps demanding answers, keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to break. I’m going to claim her, and she’s going to die because of it. “Whatever you think you felt, whatever you think is there, leave it alone.”
I hit the close button, and the doors start to shut in her face—in her shocked, livid, upset face. She takes a step forward, like she might actually try to stop them, might force her way in and demand answers I can’t give.
The second she’s out of sight, I lean against the elevator wall and close my eyes, my nails digging into my palms again.
My wolf is in agony. Howling. Clawing. Demanding I go back, claim her, mark her, make her ours the way she’s supposed to be.
The elevator reaches the ground floor. I walk out to my car on autopilot, get in, close the door. I sit there in the silence, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turn white.
I wanted to touch her. When she was standing there by the elevator, demanding answers and looking at me with those eyes, I wanted to go to her. Pull her into my arms. Bury my face in her hair. Breathe her in until her scent replaced every thought in my head. Wanted to kiss her the way I should have last night instead of shoving her away. To let my hands roam over that perfect curve of her ass…
